


Marked

by Thelittlescrimshaw



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elorcan, F/M, Mating Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/pseuds/Thelittlescrimshaw
Summary: Post- EoS, pre KoAJust when Lorcan thinks that things can't get any worse, the mating bond snaps into place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr under the title "Angel of Small Death." I've polished it up, changed the title, and put it on here. Enjoy!

Three days after Maeve had abducted Aelin, and Elide wouldn’t speak to him. Wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t so much as  _ breathe _ in his direction. Part of Lorcan understood it - the part that was full of self-loathing, the part of him that would never be more than a bastard street urchin. Part of him wanted to scream - he’d done it all to protect  _ her. _ To save _her_ mortal hide from the horde of Ilken and gods-knows what else. 

On the third day of travelling back to Terrasen to regroup - the shapeshifter masking as the bitch-queen- he noticed her limping more heavily than usual. Lorcan deliberated for a moment before nudging Gavriel with his shoulder, jerking his chin over at Elide. 

If he had any comment about the obvious fussing, he wisely kept it to himself. 

That night, the five of them sat in a circle discussing a plan of attack. 

The shapeshifter and Aedion would remain in Terrasen, with Elide and their armies. He, Whitethorn, and Gavriel would return to Doranelle to retrieve Aelin and Fenrys - and, short of that, kill Maeve. 

The three of them eyed each other; Lorcan could see the shared question in their minds.  _ Who would rip out that bitch’s heart? _ Much as Lorcan wanted to, he didn’t think he could deny Whitethorn that privilege. Not after his wife - gods, his  _ wife _ \- had been captured. 

It was the fourth day of travelling when he felt it. 

Lorcan had only heard of it happening; he’d never expected it, in his five hundred odd years, to happen to him. 

But the first time in four days that Elide spoke to him - an icy  _ you’re first watch _ on her lips - _something_ inside of him snapped into place. Something primal and feral, something bigger than himself...that same something that had caused Rowan to go from near-perfect warrior to lovesick puppy.

Lorcan froze. His heart hammered in his chest and his blood roared in his ears. He clenched his fists at his sides in an effort to reign in the urge to touch Elide, to hold her, to claim her as his and his alone -

It was a mistake. It  _ had _ to be. And if it weren’t...

If it weren’t, then it was a sick joke that the woman he was bonded to loathed him, had wished him a life of unhappiness.

_And human._ Despite her witch heritage, despite that _otherness_ that lurked around her, she wasn’t fae. If she felt it it wouldn’t be so strong that it ached. It wouldn’t surge through her veins and demand to be When he responded - a choked “okay” - his voice was strangled and hoarse. Elide narrowed her eyes but only turned away, ignoring him. 

There must’ve been something on Lorcan’s face; Whitethorn stood and ambled over to him. His former second had been cold to him as well - Lorcan could hardly blame him - but the other male understood. As did Gavriel. It would be impossible for anyone who hadn’t been bloodbound for centuries to understand…

“What,” Whitethorn asked, too lowly for Elide to hear, "Just happened.”

Of course he would make Lorcan say it, make him eat his words about the very concept of mates. The bastard would've detected the change in his scent by now, would've been able to see it a mile away - just as Lorcan had seen his, all those months ago. 

“I think,” Lorcan said, but was unable to finish the sentence.  _ Mate. Gods. Gods.  _

Rowan clasped him on the shoulder. "You're fucked." 

* * *

Whitethorn was getting supplies in town; Gavriel was meeting with a potential ally. This left Lorcan with Elide to go to the taverns and collect information, as they'd done just weeks before. 

Then, they'd posed as husband and wife. Now, Elide scarcely looked at him. 

Elide was standing at the bar, hand around her pint. She’d been clever - milking the same drink for the past half-hour as the man she spoke to ordered more. It was easy to overhear their conversation - “Why don’t you have a drink  _ for _ me?” Elide had said, a lilt to her voice and a smile in her eyes. It didn’t surprise him that the man - mortal as he was, young as he was - compiled. 

As Elide gathered information, Lorcan watched: the types to walk in and out, how the staff acted, any signs of magic or fey - or, dread the thought, Maeve. His instincts told him that this was as safe, as magic-free, as they were going to get. 

“Did you hear the about the fire-queen?” the man said. Lorcan tuned back into the conversation. 

Elide raised her eyebrows. “I heard rumors - my brother and I had been travelling through the mountains for so long. Is any of it true?” 

“Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” he said, a pinch of awe in his voice. “She took down the capital of Adarlan. Kidnapped the crown prince. Rides with witches. She stood up to the Fey Queen with a pirate fleet. And then was captured.” He shook his head, his blond hair falling into his face. “Wonder what she’ll do next?” 

“Captured?” Elide said. “By who?” 

“None other than the Queen of Doranelle,” he said. He brushed his hair behind his face. “But…”

“But?” Elide prompted. 

“Rumors,” he said, in a low voice, “Of a heist to retrieve her. That girl has a price on her head - it wouldn’t surprise me if all corners of the world collaborated to retrieve her. Only so they could draw and quarter her after.” 

Lorcan almost snorted at the image. 

“It sounds like,” Elide said carefully, “That this Aelin has made quite a few people angry.” 

That got the man to laugh. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. Say - what was your name again?”

Lorcan watched as his eyes flickered - half a second, if that - to her breasts. He barely suppressed a snarl. And Elide entertained it, flirting back, eyes lingering on the youth’s mouth. He could hardly be older than twenty mortal years. Inexperienced, no doubt, and eager. 

Lorcan clenched his fists and grit his teeth as he watched his mate flirt with another male - a mortal man, no less - when Whitethorn entered the tavern, headed straight for his table. He was in his mortal glamour, yet his still turned heads. Elide, however, only had eyes for the blond in front of her. 

Lorcan grit his teeth. Whitethorn would no doubt be able to sense the change in his scent, see through his protective behavior.  _ Shit. _

Whitethorn sat. There was a beat of silence; Whitethorn followed Lorcan’s gaze, and said, “This must be killing you.” There was no taunt in his voice, only genuine sympathy. 

“I was in love with Maeve for centuries,” he said. “This is a mere annoyance.” 

Even he knew that the words were a lie. Part of Lorcan didn’t care - part of him felt unbearably guilty. If this is what Whitethorn felt about the Fire-Bringer - and she was gone, captured, her very life in danger...gods. 

Lorcan allowed himself a glance at Whitethorn. “Don’t deny yourself this,” he said, then rose. “Gavriel will be coming soon. You two should take the room with the window.” 

Lorcan leveled a stare at his former second. “She won’t like that. Why two rooms?” 

Whitethorn met his gaze. “She’s your mate, Lorcan, and we are at war. Take what time you can.” 

With that, the silver-haired male swept out of the room. Lorcan drummed his fingers against the table, wondering - not looking forward to a night of icy silence - when he looked up. 

Elide was staring at him, shock written clear across her face. When their eyes met, that shock warped into anger. She had heard - Whitethorn, the bastard, had made  _ sure _ that she had heard.

_ Shit. _


	2. Chapter 2

_ Mate _ .

Elide barely registered what the man next to her was saying.  _ Mate. _ Lorcan was - but he couldn’t be, he  _ couldn’t _ , he betrayed Aelin, this wasn’t  _ fair - _

She met his eyes, then looked away. Rowan - what was he playing at? Why raise his voice? Why make sure that she’d heard -  _ why rent two rooms for the night?  _

It was too much - too much. So Elide did what she did best: she pushed down the feelings that were bubbling up in her chest, ignored her racing heart, and schooled her expression into one of doe-eyed innocence. “Evalin,” she said, answering his question. “I’m Evalin.” 

He looked at her with those hungry eyes, and she demurred, “It was nice talking to you…”

“Corbain.”

“Corbain,” she said.

“Friends call me Cor,” he said, and placed a hand on her thigh. He leaned closer, whispered, “I think we could be friends, Evalin.”

Her stomach lurched in disgust. But she pushed it down, demurred. “My brother is waiting for me outside,” she said. 

“Will I see you tonight?” he asked, removing his hand too slowly, like he had all the time in the world. 

“Perhaps,” she said, forcing out a coquettish smile. 

And when she left, she pretended not to feel his hungry gaze on her. 

* * *

The late afternoon sun was a welcome sight after the darkness of the tavern. 

Elide hugged herself and made her way down the main road to the market. She needed to clear her head. She needed...

Tears pricked her eyes. Elide didn’t know what to feel. Lorcan had been the first man she’d ever truly trusted, and then he’d shattered that into a million pieces. 

_ And, _ that ever-present voice whispered,  _ he’s not a man. Not really. _

On some level, she wanted to understand. To believe that he hadn’t meant to betray Aelin. She had seen him weep on the beach that day. And yet…

And yet.

A brush of magic against her bad ankle alerted her to Lorcan’s presence, jolting her out of her thoughts. Her heart lurched in her chest - in fear, in excitement, she couldn’t tell. 

But she kept her eyes straight ahead, ignoring the familiar,  _ safe _ feeling. Loathing and longing warred in her chest, so much that Elide thought she’d burst from it. 

“I know you’re there,” she snapped. “So might as well -”

But when she turned, it wasn’t Lorcan who stood before her, but Rowan. 

But it was Lorcan’s magic she felt. So where was he? 

_ He worries,  _ Anneith whispered. _He cares._

“What is it?” she asked. “Is everyone okay?” She lowered her voice. “We haven’t been found out, have we?” 

Rowan shook his head. “Walk with me.” 

He offered her his arm. For balance or protection, Elide wasn’t sure. She took it, and they continued down the main road. “I’m sure you heard.” 

“You didn’t seem like you were trying to hide it.” 

“You have a right to know.” As if anticipating her next question, Rowan said, “It is not mine to tell.” 

She swallowed. “He betrayed Aelin.”

Rowan glanced down at her. When he spoke, his voice sounded old, defeated. “He didn’t know. None of us could have known. The oath…it becomes part of you.” He paused, then, “Lorcan called her to protect you.”

"Even before I knew we were mates," Rowan said, "I would have torn this very world to shreds for Aelin." He gaze was far off, caught in a memory. "Lorcan never understood how the bond effects you. His only comparison was blind loyalty to Maeve."

Elide didn’t bother to hide the disgust on her face. Such a powerful creature, and he gave his freedom away at the drop of a hat. To a monster just like her uncle. Worse. 

_And how broken he must’ve been, to surrender to her,_ Anneith whispered. 

“Elide,” Rowan said. They were coming up to the entrance of the tavern; Rowan had turned them around when she wasn’t paying attention. “Lorcan is many things. Loyal. Brutal. But with you he is gentle. And kind.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “I’d never seen a male so eager to rip his shirts to shreds for a woman.” 

Elide felt color rise to her cheeks. Rowan continued, “Do you hate him? Truly?”

Elide swallowed.  _ Sometimes,  _ she thought,  _ I wish I could. _

_ But you do not, _ Anneith whispered back.  _ For you and he are cut from the same cloth. Forged in the same dying star.  _

“No,” she said, and it came out scarcely a whisper. “No, I don’t.” 

Rowan ushered her into the tavern, and gestured up the stairs, to where their rooms were. He pressed a key into her hand. “Then go. At least speak to him. His pining is grating on my last nerve.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaannd we've earned the M rating, kids! ;)

Unaided by magic to brace her ankle, Elide limped up the stairs. 

It took all of thirty seconds before she was intercepted by Corbain. 

“Evalin,” he called, lurching up towards her. “I saw you come in. Why didn’t you say hi?” 

Alcohol was rip on his breath. He leaned in closer; Elide pressed herself against the wall, cringed when he planted his hand just above her shoulder. Caging her. 

“I - I’m feeling ill,” she demurred. “I wanted to lie down.” 

“Would you like company?” he asked. 

Elide had thought that she’d felt disgust before. But something deep inside of her recoiled at this man’s lecherous gaze, made her feel physically sick. 

And angry. 

“Erm - no, thank you, I’m feeling  _ quite _ ill -”

His other hand came up, rested on her thigh. “You know, I’m beginning to think you’re lying to me. I think you have a husband waiting. I think you’re just another little slut -” 

Elide was already reaching for the knife she kept at her belt, prepared to stab him and call for Rowan - he was just outside, he would hear her - when Lorcan, quick as death, quiet as death, appeared on the stairs below them. Seconds later he lifted Corbain clear off the ground, hand around his throat. 

“If you ever so much as  _ look  _ at my mate again,” he snarled, “I’ll rutting skin you alive.” 

* * *

Lorcan ushered her to the empty room after that, made a point to lock the door behind them. 

He glanced at her, at the knife in her hand. “You had that handled. Of course you did.” 

The first words he’d truly spoken to her in nearly a week, and she wasn’t sure what she felt - anger, disgust. A faint sting of betrayal. And still...her whole heart ached from missing him. 

Before she could think better, she asked the question that had been plaguing her mind: “How long have you known?” 

Because that was it, wasn’t it? How long - at what point did he  _ know _ that the gods-damned mating bond was there? At what point was  _ she _ supposed to know? And - and gods, what if he’d known and  _ still  _ called Maeve? What then? 

A heavy, ominous pause stretched out between them. “Three days.” His voice sounded strained.

An audible sigh of relief. Elide swallowed, blinked away the tears that were building in the corners of her eyes.Her biggest fear out of the way, and she felt indignation rear its head.  _ Good. _ Righteous anger. She could work with that. “And,”  _ thank the gods, _ her voice didn’t shake. “Were you ever planning on  _ telling _ me? Or would you precious queen not approve?” He opened his mouth, but she continued, “You were  _ crawling _ after her on the beach that day.” 

For a split second, he looked like she slapped him. But he recovered, his almost permanent scowl returning. “Not until after I was certain you’d want to hear it. Whitethorn meddled.” He made for the door, stepping around her. “And it was Aelin. Believe it or not, Elide, I was fighting the oath to get to Aelin.” 

“You said you were in love with her.” 

The words came out before she could stop them, and Elide realized that it was selfish, and petty, and such a stupid detail - but she coudln’t get over it. He’d told her that he was in love with Maeve, and she’d still offered him a place in Perranth. 

But seeing him interact with the queen had been a different matter entirely, had made her feel stupid and very, very young. 

Lorcan’s throat bobbed. “If I’ve learned anything over these past gods-damned weeks,” he said lowly, “Is that that wasn’t love. Not truly. Not after seeing Whitethorn and Aelin.” His eyes lingered on her, impossibly sad. “Not after you.” 

Elide’s heart pounded in her chest and her throat became tight. It was all so much, too much, and yet…

“Why me?” 

Noble blood. Witch blood. Illiterate. Crippled. The only reason she’d survived up until this point was luck and a goddess who, for some reason, had taken pity on her. She’d never envisioned a life free from her uncle, let alone... _ this. _

“Because you are clever, and brave, and kind. Because love should make you happy.” 

Elide’s breath caught in her throat. He continued, “Because you offered me a home. I made a promise to you, and I that promise is more important to me than any gods-damned blood-oath. Because for the first time in five centuries I fought the blood oath. For you.” 

Tears pricked at Elide’s eyes. She blinked them away, found her voice. “You still have a home. In Perranth.” She couldn’t bring herself to say  _ with me. _ There was so much - too much - her heart ached, for her and for him. But the look of joy on his face was enough - so much so, that it almost made  _ her _ happy. 

And then, almost tentatively, he used his magic to brace her ankle. Elide felt her whole body melt at the sensation, revel in the familiarity. 

“I missed that,” she said, quietly.  _ I missed you. _

“Me, too.” 

* * *

Lorcan - to his massive surprise - was a rutting  _ mother hen. _

Elide was a grown woman. She could handle herself. And with the help of his magic bracing her ankle, she moved much easier. 

Yet still he insisted on fetching them dinner, and running her bath, and sending her clothes to be washed. He wanted to blame it on the mating bond - and surely, that must’ve contributed to the  _ urgency _ \- but this is how he’d been treating her from the beginning. Caring. Nurturing. 

Who rutting  _ was  _ he? 

Already clean herself, Elide was preparing for bed. He could hear her out in the room, shuffling around. He wondered how they’d sleep -  _ if _ they’d sleep. But she’d never...gods. _ Gods. _ Maybe he should offer to sleep on the floor. Maybe…

He heard the covers shift, heard the bed creak under her weight. He swallowed. He cleaned his only shirt - his others torn to shreds for  _ her _ \- so he was half-naked, but that couldn’t be helped. 

_ You’ve gone into battle with less worries, _ he scolded himself.  _ Get it together. _

* * *

There was a knot in her stomach as Elide laid down, propped up by some of the pillows. The bed was large enough that they could spend the whole night not touching, and yet…

She wasn’t sure what she wanted. How she felt. Once upon a time, she thought that she might’ve loved him. But... _ mates… _

Lorcan stepped out, inky hair still damp from his bath. Drops of water dripped from the ends of his hair, down those massive shoulders...down that  _ very _ bare torso, lower…

She dragged her eyes away. If he’d caught her staring, he hadn’t mentioned it. 

“I can take the floor, if you want.” 

“Don’t be stupid.” 

His eyebrow quirked. He sat on the other side of the bed, still over the covers. He propped himself up on his elbow and stretched out, feet nearly spilling over the edge. “What do you want, Elide?” 

Her eyes darted to where his free hand rested between them. She reached out and laced her fingers through his, felt those calloused fingers give her hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Why didn’t I notice anything?” she said, her voice sounding small. “With the bond.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word  _ mate _ yet. 

“You’re human,” he murmured. He was tracing patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb, slow and gentle enough that it made the hairs on her arms stand on end. “Even with your witch ancestry. The feelings wouldn’t be as strong.” 

She nodded, looked up into those impossibly dark eyes. She wanted to be closer to him; but he was letting her guide this. He’d gone out of his way to give her privacy, had offered to sleep on the gods-damned  _ floor… _

“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I do have feelings for you, Lorcan.” 

And before he could respond, she said, “Are you going to get under the covers or not?” 

He did, and Elide moved closer, felt the warmth of his body. He slid his arm underneath the pillow she was using, tangled their legs together. Elide placed a hand on his chest; his other hand came up, covered hers. 

The touch felt...she felt…

_ Safe. Home. _

“Can you say here?” she asked, her voice scarcely a whisper. “Until the morning?” 

“Of course,” he said. He pulled her closer, tucked her head underneath his chin. And then, almost too quiet for her to hear, “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Elide woke. She was on her side, Lorcan’s arm draped over her waist. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. 

And her arm - squished underneath her - was cramping. 

She shifted and found a better position, facing him. Her movement caused Lorcan to stir, blinking sleepy eyes at her. His hair had fallen into his face, and before Elide could think, she brushed it back behind his ear. His eyes fluttered shut under her touch. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” she whispered, still running her fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep.” 

Lorcan reached up and enveloped her hand in his own, brought it down between them. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, the simple touch sending shivers down Elide’s spine. 

When he looked at her, his black eyes glinted in the moonlight. And Elide wondered what those lips would feel like on her own, remembered how it had felt that night in the marsh, all those weeks ago. 

She wanted to kiss him again. 

She pressed her lips against his, once, twice, heart hammering in her chest. For a brief, terrifying, irrational moment Elide panicked - what if he rejected her? What if the mating bond was a fluke? What if -

But all paranoid thoughts were cast aside when Lorcan pulled her flush to his chest, lips on hers, arms holding her tight. He ran his tongue over the seam of her lips and Elide opened, pliant beneath his touch. His kisses were warm, and surprisingly gentle. He planted kisses against her neck, up her jaw. “What do you want, Elide?” 

She swallowed. What  _ did _ she want? The thought of sex used to terrify her, but with Lorcan she felt safe. 

And she  _ wanted _ him. Wanted him to kiss her harder. Wanted to run her hands over his naked skin, wanted to feel his lips and teeth and tongue all over  _ her _ . Her core felt tight and hot, as if begging for his touch. 

He skimmed his hand down her waist, rested it on her hip, the heat of his hand seeping through the fabric of her pants, and she couldn’t help but think what it would feel like if he touched her  _ there. _

“I want…” she said, and thanked whatever gods were listening that her voice didn’t shake. “To finish what we were doing that night. In the ruins.” 

Lorcan inhaled sharply, and with inhuman speed moved so he was hovering over her, those massive shoulders blocking out the moonlight. 

“That night in the ruins,” he said, voice low, “I would have done this.” 

He kissed her with the feral hunger she’d expect of a fae, as if he were trying to devour her. His hand came up, cupped her cheek and tilted her head back, deepening the kiss, sending waves of heat straight to her core. He pressed kisses down her throat, and then scraped his teeth against the sensitive flesh by her pulse point. 

Elide couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. 

His hand came down to her hip, fingers skimming underneath the fabric of her shirt - ghosting over her ribs, higher. His hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. A wave of heat sliced through her, and Elide bit her lip to keep quiet. 

Lorcan repeated the motion, again and again. “Off,” he murmured, tugging at her shirt. 

Breathless, Elide complied, grateful for the dark, for the barely-there moonlight. Lorcan sat back on his heels and watched her rapturously as she sat up and removed the garment. 

He leaned forward and kissed her. “You are,” he murmured, lips brushing hers, “The most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” 

Hand fisted in her hair, he pulled her neck back in a sinuous arch and planted kisses down her throat, her breasts, laved at the ovesensitive peaks. Elide dug her fingers into the meat of his shoulder and pressed her thighs together, skin feeling too tight, too hot. She wanted him closer. She wanted him in ways she didn’t know how to describe. Closer. Wholly. Lorcan was  _ hers, _ and she was his, and doing this with anyone else was unthinkable. 

Feeling heady and bold, Elide tugged her pants and undergarments down. Lorcan stopped what he was doing and lifted his head, a silent question in his eyes. Elide kicked her pants off from around her ankles. “You, too.” 

And he did, slowly, as if giving her time to change her mind. As if expecting her to reject him. 

And Elide wondered how much of it was giving her the space to lead this, and how much of it was a genuine fear. 

So Elide leaned up, took his face in her hands, and kissed him, slowly, gently, thoroughly. His hands found her waist and he held her steady as he laid back, Elide’s knees on either side of him. She could feel his cock pressing against her thigh; her mouth went dry at the thought of it.  _ Inside _ of her. 

She took his lower lip between her teeth as she pulled away. Spurred on by the low moan she elicited, she reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock. 

“Elide,” he choked, but she hushed him with a kiss. 

“I said I wanted to finish what we started in the ruins,” she whispered. “I meant it.” 

Something glinted in his eyes. “So did I,” he said, and Elide didn’t have time to ask what he meant before he lifted her forward, until her knees were on either side of his head. 

“Wh -  _ oh!”  _

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened to her body when he licked her, dipped his tongue between her folds, tongue teasing just at her entrance. She fisted her hands in his hair and held on for dear life as he made her see stars with his lips and tongue. 

She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming when his lips found that bundle of nerves, and  _ sucked - _

Minutes, hours, Elide didn’t know how long it lasted; but when he finished, her legs were shaking and his lips were glistening - from her. He grinned. “Good?” 

She swallowed, nodded. She’d never imagined that someone would kiss here  _ there, _ that it would feel  _ like that. _ She leaned down and kissed him, her hair - and when had it come undone from her braid? - falling around them. For a moment Elide marveled at him: the impossibly broad shoulders, the smooth skin over hard muscle. She traced her finger over those finely shaped cheekbones, over that sharp jawline. Here he was, the deadliest fae this side of the continent, chosen by death himself - naked and prone beneath her. 

And instead of feeling satiated, she wanted  _ more. _

He was already guiding his cock to her entrance. “Go slow at first,” he murmured. Elide sat up on her knees so she could take him in, bit her lip as she sank down, slowly. It stung at first, but she was aching, pulsing, and something deep inside of her wanted  _ more, more, more. _ She sank down upon him inch by glorious inch.

Lorcan let out a breath that he’d been holding, and said, “Now, take what you will.” 

Elide glanced down at him, for guidance, for instruction, she wasn’t sure. He looked up at her with such a look of - of  _ adoration _ in his eyes, that she almost couldn’t bear it. 

She gave an experimental thrust of her hips and - oh _ ,  _ it was like an itch inside of her was finally being scratched. Lorcan must’ve read something on her face, because he grasped her hips and moved. “Like that?” 

Elide gasped; he did it again, hit a spot deep inside of her. And again, and again, until her entire body was coming alive, until she scored her nails down his chest, until she began moving too, rocking her hips along with him, faster and faster, chasing that crest of pleasure until -

Until she angled her hips  _ just so, _ and Loran pulled out nearly all the way and slammed her back down, his grip on her hips near bruising, and he hit  _ that spot right there, please again oh my godsLorcanplease- _

She saw stars. She saw galaxies. Her soul left her body and, and - 

And when she came back down, her legs were shaking. Lorcan was still inside of her, she was propped up on her knees, and her  _ legs were shaking. _

Lorcan pulled her down for a kiss, and began moving again - slower, this time, much slower. A gentleness she’d never thought him capable of, before today. And her heart was so full, and this man, this fae, her  _ mate - _

“I love you, Lorcan,” she whispered, breathless. “I love you.”

For a moment, Lorcan paused. And then he looked up at her with such a look of pure  _ joy _ that Elide thought her heart would burst. He rolled her onto her back and kissed her neck, and said, “I have loved you since you took an axe to the Ilken. And I will love you until the world is burnt to ash.” 

He kissed her and rocked his hips, and pleasure sliced through her. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of her ear. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Tell me,” he said, dropped a kiss to her neck. It seemed like he was pleading with her. For what, she didn’t know. But she gave up trying to muffle those gasps and moans, let instinct take over when she said, breathless,  _ “there, fuck, do that again - Lorcan, please -.”  _

She scored her nails down his back and he hissed through his teeth. “You can go- harder -”

She did, and for a moment was afraid of drawing blood - but the fear dissipated when he groaned her name into the crook of her neck.His pace quickened, and Elide could only hold on as he drove them closer and closer to the crest of pleasure. 

She climaxed with a cry, and Lorcan wasn’t far behind, uttering words in a language Elide didn’t know into her neck. Elide’s whole body was trembling - and maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed Lorcan’s was, too.

Lorcan was still hovering above her, gazing at her as if he couldn’t believe she were real. She put her hands on his shoulders and guided him down, until his head was resting on her chest. For a moment, it was only the sound of their breath between them. 

She ran her fingers through his hair and gathered her courage. “What does it mean? That we’re mates.” 

“It’s a bond,” he said, words slow, careful. “That binds us. It’s…” he trailed off. “Nothing has changed, from before. Not really. I loved you even before it snapped into place. And I will love you until my very last breath.” 

He swallowed. “It is indelible proof that you are mine, and I am yours. If you will have me.” 

Elide reached down, and entwined her hand with his. “Until my very last breath,” she whispered. And she lay there, holding him, until they fell asleep. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on tumblr, you can find me at www.littlemanincmonday.tumblr.com


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